Cyclists. Have you hit one with your car yet?
I haven’t but my mate Bruiser has and despite the cyclist breaking all the standard rules of the road guess who got to pay for the damage? Here’s a clue, not the fuckwit in the spandex.
I read a magazine article some months ago titled ‘Cycling; The New Golf’ which listed how cycling is going through the same surge in popularity as golf did several years ago when every man and his dog decided to take up the game, thus ruining it for everybody else on the course.
Had this invasion of the common man been left unchecked then golf may well have found itself in a situation where cycling finds its self today – a three way (yes please!) pressure cooker comprised of the hard out old school riders, the Johnny come lately poseurs and the cars on the roads that they're all fighting over.
Golf avoided the same agro dance off howvere because it has a class structure in place which works in keeping the riff raff off the good courses and relegates them to the dog runs. It does this by charging exorbitant green fees and memberships in the hundreds.
Now you could argue you would pay the same for a bike, especially if it’s made from some super tough, yet super light metal that isn’t even known to man yet, as most seem to be, but once you’ve made that one of purchase no one is charging you to ride three abreast on the road whilst you chat with your mates from the office, are they?
I should point out that I am a fan of the cycling movement and do appreciate those cyclists, like my mate Stu, who have been riding for a long time and play the game according to the rules. These are the guys who can ride almost as fast as you can legally drive, are visible and most importantly are aware of their surroundings. Sometimes even far more than we drivers are.
Those guys I have a lot of time for. Not in a lets share a long, warm shower kind of way, but as in a form of mutual respect because I for one would want a little more between me and the tarmac than bike pants if I could get up to the speed that Stu and his mates do.
Then there are cyclists like Trevor Mallard, the former MP of the same name, who don their expensive lycra outfits, remove the seats from their adamantium cycle frames and free wheel it down the hill to the local cafe for a latte.
And he’s not alone. Drive by any such eatery on the weekends and chances are it will be full of part time cyclists discussing their Shimano gears and half arsed drafting technique over a flat white. Which defeats the point of all the exercise, doesn’t it? When was the last time you watched a rugby or football game where the players lined up for a coffee at half time?
Which brings us to the crux of the matter really; taking shit seriously. Those cyclists that do are not in it to socially network with likeminded followers of fashion. They ride the distances and reach the speeds they do because that’s the level at which they need to be at aerobically to make gains. It’s not a logic that applies solely to cycling mind you; it’s true of all exercise.
Those that don’t coast down the flats with their skin tight jumpers unzipped trying to look like they’ve achieved that same threshold but miraculously, never break a sweat. Their idea of a Tour de France is stopping at the French cafe on the corner. Wankers.
So if you do have to hit one and with the saturation of cyclists on the roads these days and not a matter of 'if', but 'when', then make sure it’s one of them coffee drinkers aye?
I haven’t but my mate Bruiser has and despite the cyclist breaking all the standard rules of the road guess who got to pay for the damage? Here’s a clue, not the fuckwit in the spandex.
I read a magazine article some months ago titled ‘Cycling; The New Golf’ which listed how cycling is going through the same surge in popularity as golf did several years ago when every man and his dog decided to take up the game, thus ruining it for everybody else on the course.
Had this invasion of the common man been left unchecked then golf may well have found itself in a situation where cycling finds its self today – a three way (yes please!) pressure cooker comprised of the hard out old school riders, the Johnny come lately poseurs and the cars on the roads that they're all fighting over.
Golf avoided the same agro dance off howvere because it has a class structure in place which works in keeping the riff raff off the good courses and relegates them to the dog runs. It does this by charging exorbitant green fees and memberships in the hundreds.
Now you could argue you would pay the same for a bike, especially if it’s made from some super tough, yet super light metal that isn’t even known to man yet, as most seem to be, but once you’ve made that one of purchase no one is charging you to ride three abreast on the road whilst you chat with your mates from the office, are they?
I should point out that I am a fan of the cycling movement and do appreciate those cyclists, like my mate Stu, who have been riding for a long time and play the game according to the rules. These are the guys who can ride almost as fast as you can legally drive, are visible and most importantly are aware of their surroundings. Sometimes even far more than we drivers are.
Those guys I have a lot of time for. Not in a lets share a long, warm shower kind of way, but as in a form of mutual respect because I for one would want a little more between me and the tarmac than bike pants if I could get up to the speed that Stu and his mates do.
Then there are cyclists like Trevor Mallard, the former MP of the same name, who don their expensive lycra outfits, remove the seats from their adamantium cycle frames and free wheel it down the hill to the local cafe for a latte.
And he’s not alone. Drive by any such eatery on the weekends and chances are it will be full of part time cyclists discussing their Shimano gears and half arsed drafting technique over a flat white. Which defeats the point of all the exercise, doesn’t it? When was the last time you watched a rugby or football game where the players lined up for a coffee at half time?
Which brings us to the crux of the matter really; taking shit seriously. Those cyclists that do are not in it to socially network with likeminded followers of fashion. They ride the distances and reach the speeds they do because that’s the level at which they need to be at aerobically to make gains. It’s not a logic that applies solely to cycling mind you; it’s true of all exercise.
Those that don’t coast down the flats with their skin tight jumpers unzipped trying to look like they’ve achieved that same threshold but miraculously, never break a sweat. Their idea of a Tour de France is stopping at the French cafe on the corner. Wankers.
So if you do have to hit one and with the saturation of cyclists on the roads these days and not a matter of 'if', but 'when', then make sure it’s one of them coffee drinkers aye?
Make the roads a little safer for everyone.
Trevor stretches his underworked hammy whilst waiting for his trim latte..
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